


Heavy is the Head

by Sincerelywithlove



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Adrenaline, Aliases, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Fashion & Models, Alternate Universe - Music, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Famous Harry, Famous Liam, Famous Louis, Famous Niall, Famous Zayn, Gangs, Heist, Jewelry, M/M, Masks, Naivety, OT5, Paparazzi, Partying, Prince Louis, Robbery, Robin Hood References, Smoking, Socialites - Freeform, drag me down
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-04
Updated: 2015-12-29
Packaged: 2018-04-12 21:12:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4494903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sincerelywithlove/pseuds/Sincerelywithlove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“We could change everything, Harry,” Niall voices softly. “We could literally turn it all upside down. Could you believe that?”</p><p>For the first time, Harry can. He doesn’t want to, doesn’t want to give into the naivety of a brighter world sitting across from him, but he does. “We know nothing about…” he takes a breath and leans a little closer to Niall across the table. “Robbery.”</p><p>Or the one where Harry's the son of international fashion designer Anne Twist, Niall's the groomed son of Horan Jewelry Centurions, Zayn's the son of the prominent music mogul of Malik Recording Institute, Liam's the famously intelligent son of Payne Technological Enterprises, and well, Louis' the heir to the English throne. Niall's penchant for Robin Hood like naivety might just be the end of these boys or the beginning of an underground socialite rebellion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Well, with Drag Me Down coming out... I was inspired. Mostly, I owe the background of my inspiration to HardSpouses "Drag Me Down" video. If you haven't seen it, I greatly encourage you to go watch it. It's brilliant. Anyway, this is the prologue for my new fic. 
> 
> I hope that you enjoy!

It wasn’t always like this, the scandals and the headlines were always geared more toward sex and partying not… _this._ This, the thing that became of all the good they had planned, all the adrenaline that flooded their veins. Harry’s couture suits have dimmed to tacky grey jumpsuits. Niall’s reverted to hiding out in the basement of his family’s summer home to avoid the police. Liam’s been expelled from his university program and all of his research has been nullified. Zayn’s in the process of being disowned. And… Louis. Prince Louis, heir to the English throne, might no longer be an heir to the English throne.

Things weren’t supposed to end like this.

They were only trying to do what was right.

Harry hangs his heavy head and sighs, “A wise man once said, there are no perfect men. Only perfect intentions.”

**_Seven Months Prior…_ **

The first time that Harry had heard about his friend’s whimsy-filled ideals, they had both been seventeen in the back of some ridiculously long vehicle as they were taken to school.

“ _We could change everything, Harry,_ ” Niall had said with a blinding smile creasing his rosy cheeks. “ _We could literally turn it all upside down. Could you believe that?_ ”

At the time, Harry hadn’t thought much of Niall’s words, hadn’t seen the sincerity and hope in them. He hadn’t realized how greatly his friend was dissatisfied with the world around them, hadn’t thought that Niall was truly so uncomfortable in his skin that he would want to give everything he had away for the betterment of others.

Now though, twenty-one years old and a little wiser in the features, Harry _understands._ He’s seen his peroxide headed best friend give some of the rarest jewels from his family’s line to little children in rags underneath bridges. Yes, now he definitely understands. Niall’s views haven’t seemed to change, not in the slightest.

“Harry, you’ve really got to listen to this,” Niall tries to form the words around a large bite of scone. There are crumbs sticking to the peach fuzz lining his jaw and his deep blue eyes are bright, imploring.

Sighing a little exaggeratedly, Harry lifts his head to meet Niall’s optimistic stare, “Yes, Ni?” He shifts a little in his seat and tries to scratch the itch that his suit is causing him in a place that wouldn’t necessarily be appropriate to scratch under their current public scrutiny. They’re really only seated on the patio of some little hole-in-the-wall café but he definitely caught some girl with auburn hair pointing her camera phone in their direction… And he’s still itchy. His mum may be the head of _Styles Innovative Designs_ but she certainly didn’t tailor this outfit to be comfortable on him. Pretty or not, he hates the speckled grey fabric quite a lot right now.

“I think I’ve really got it all planned out this time,” Niall begins. He’s set down the remnants of his scone and is now fiddling with the black cross necklace dangling from a dark chain around his neck. There are five deep blue jewels set into the pendant. One might think they were just Sapphire if they didn’t know who Niall was, but those small round jewels brushing against Niall’s crumby fingers are 12 carat Blue Moon Diamonds, a precious jewel that his family is known for. The shiny rounds that Niall is rubbing scone dust all over are worth _millions._

Frowning a little, Harry leans back in his seat and crosses his arms over his primly pressed chest. “Finally going to give that necklace away to the bag lady in the park?” he asks.

An affronted look passes over Niall’s face as he grips at the pendant, “ _No._ My nan crafted this before she passed.” His nose scrunches up a little before he narrows his eyes and tries to regain his serious composure.

Harry cracks a grin.

“What if we… and just listen to what I have to say before you outright refuse,” Niall begins again. He finally releases the pendant and it swings back against his chest, hitting the bare spot right above the neckline of his v-neck t-shirt.

Briefly, Harry wonders how peculiar they look sitting together with him in his mum’s newest couture suit and Niall in his t-shirt with some sort of stain on the bottom hem and his ratty jeans. The son of the designer and the son of the jeweler, Harry sighs again.

“What if we pulled an Ocean’s 11 but instead of keeping the money, we give it to those who need it?” Niall finally finishes his thought and he’s gleaming so brightly that he outshines the late afternoon sun.

 _Ocean’s 11?_ Harry squints at the boy across the table and tries to think of what he might actually be referencing now. He usually never knows. “Ocean’s 11?”

“Ocean’s 11,” Niall nods swiftly and he’s whispering now, leaning across the clothed table so that Harry will hear him better. “We steal a bunch of people’s money, break into a vault or something.”

“You want to be a thief,” Harry clarifies. He inhales softly and rests his cheek on his palm. The breeze blows his chocolate curls around until they eventually wind into the tips of his fingers. Why are they sitting outside again? It’s chilly.

For a moment, Niall seems to struggle with a response, but he is clearly unhappy with Harry’s immediate label. “ _No,_ ” he eventually continues. “I want to give people better lives. I don’t need more that half the things that are in my possession, and neither do most of the people we know. We would take from the rich and give to the poor.”

“So you want to be the Robin Hood of London?” Harry’s been trying to understand this boy for years.

However, the Niall that sits across from him today seems more genuine than he ever has before. There’s a certain spark of conviction and personal sacrifice to the way he slumps his shoulders and smiles gently in a way that Harry has never seen before. “We could change everything, Harry,” he voices softly. “We could literally turn it all upside down. Could you believe that?”

For the first time, Harry can. He doesn’t want to, doesn’t want to give into the naivety of a brighter world sitting across from him, but he does. “We know nothing about…” he takes a breath and leans a little closer to Niall across the table. “ _Robbery_.”

“No, but that’s why we need a team,” Niall clasps his hands together and leans in a little further. “There are three others that I think will help us. They don’t know anything about it either but between the five of us we should be able to come up with something. We’re all very connected individuals.”

Their noses are mere inches apart and they must look absolutely ridiculous to anyone who might be peering in their direction, but Harry’s worried that if they’re any further apart someone might overhear their conspiracy. “Who?”

“The son of Payne Technological Enterprises, the beauty of Malik Recording Institute, and…” Niall sucks in a breath and swipes his tongue over his bottom lip. His voice drops to a barely audible decibel, “the heir to the English throne.”

Coughing on his own air, Harry tries to fathom just how large of an idiot his friend seems to be. “ _Prince Louis!_ ” he hisses. “Are you insane!”

Niall, bless him, looks unimpressed by Harry’s response. “He’s a good friend,” he says as he leans back in his chair and crosses his arms firmly.

 _Good friend. Of course he is._ Harry presses the heels of his palms into his eyes until it hurts. This good friend sitting across from him is an _idiot_. “You can’t just ask the…” he pauses and tries to get Niall to lean in again. When he refuses, Harry harshly whispers, “you can’t just ask the _Prince_ to steal with _you_.”

“I can and have,” Niall states simply. “I asked him first,” and _ouch_.

“Right,” Harry runs his fingers through his curls in mild distress.

Picking at his scone again, Niall looks away from Harry. There’s a slightly pleased smile digging into his cheeks now, “Plus, he came up with a fairly good idea of how to conceal ourselves.”

_Of course. Niall would conspire against the monarchy and the monetarily elite with the heir to the monarchy. Why wouldn’t Niall do that?_

“Did he now?” Harry feels like he might be rapidly aging every time Niall opens his mouth.

“MM,” Niall hums. “We would form a gang of sorts. Lou is still thinking of a name…”

_Niall would call the potential next king by a nickname. Why wouldn’t he?_

There’s a headache forming behind Harry’s eyes.

“But, his idea was that we would wear masks and call each other by different names so that we wouldn’t be identifiable,” Niall taps his index finger against his bottom lip.

“I’m not about to call you DJ Money Bags,” Harry withers.

Rolling his eyes, Niall leans his elbows on the table, “No, like normal names. Normal monikers. The police would be looking for like some guy named Nicholas before they thought to search me out. They wouldn’t have a visual of my face and we would wear hoods. Simple.”

“You do realize you’re calling grand larceny simple, right?” Harry really is wilting away.

“Not grand larceny,” Niall smiles a little wider. “Armed robbery.”

 _Armed robbery. Of course._ “You’ve got to be joking,” Harry lifts his eyes to the sky and prays to whatever god might be listening because _what the fuck. The Prince, a Music Mogul, a Geneticist, and two bumbling idiots committing armed robbery._ “What kind of new age Robin Hood bull shit have you been watching?”

“Have a little faith my brother,” Niall grins a little gentler now but the curve of his lips hints at nothing moral.

Harry should have said no, should have stopped Niall when they were still kids. He shouldn’t have listening to those simple words.

_We could change everything, Harry._


	2. Chapter One: Papillon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had this finished weeks ago, I'm not quite sure as to why I didn't just post it then...
> 
> Anywho, here is chapter one!

Before they can head back to their respective homes, Niall purchases the entire stock of baked goods that the café has. He doesn’t take any home, not that Harry is surprised by this, but instead he leaves them for ‘whomever is hungry or is a few pounds short.’ He also exits on the goodbye of a very bashful and bewildered barista; this doesn’t surprise Harry either.

In fact, Harry might be permanently in a different state of shock himself. Why does Niall have to leave people that way? _That’s just Niall. Of course that’s what Niall does. Why wouldn’t Niall do that?_

“Alright there, Harry?” Niall drapes his arm around Harry’s neck and pinches his cheek. The smell of sweat, jasmine, and mandarin wafting off his pale skin is not nearly as endearing as Niall probably thinks it is. But, hey, the cologne drenching his skin is probably none other than a product of Clive Christian since the Horan family provides the small diamonds for the cologne’s stopper. He reeks of money and all he wants to do is take more of it to give to others.

“Why do you have to do this?” Harry whines a little and really he doesn’t know why he’s asking. His friend will never change; he should know that by now. “Why do you have to be the one for this, Niall?”

There’s only a small moment where Niall pauses and his steps on the sidewalk slow a little in thought. “Well, I don’t,” he begins. “But someone needs to and it doesn’t look like anyone else is going to step up if I don’t.”

“You said Prince Louis was interested. He has the political power to cause change, why not just let him handle it?” Harry might be pleading a little. It’s really for his own sanity though because he will follow this blonde haired ball of energy right into the fires of hell if he were to ask.

“Lou’s just a figure head right now. He doesn’t actually have that much say. Even if and when he becomes King, which could be _years_ away, he’ll still have very little power. The most he could do then is talk about it publicly and hope that the people agree with him. For it to really matter, those with the most money would have to give up their riches voluntarily to actually make a _difference._ Harry, did you know that homeless individuals have _half_ the lifespan of other citizens? How many people would die young before a small change was even _initiated?_ ”

Casting a small glance at his friend, Harry tries to find a possible loophole. Essentially, he knows that Niall is right, knows that change could literally take centuries, but still… “What about you making a donation? I could make one too, and the other lads…” Harry coughs a little. “Prince Louis, he could make a _generous_ donation.”

“Harry, I love you mate, but do you really think the money you have in your pockets is yours?” Niall removes his arm from around Harry’s neck to cross them over his chest.

“Well, of course it is…” Harry begins with a furrow building between his eyebrows.

Niall looks disappointed, “You didn’t work for it. You didn’t deposit it. You didn’t even ask for it. It’s just something _your parents_ gave you access to. You think because the cards got your name on it that the money it contains is yours.” He inhales a little and his eyes are so, so, so intent on staring into Harry’s soul, “Your parents _gave_ you that money. You think that Ms. Anne would be so thrilled for you to toss a large sum of it away?”

There’s an offended feeling growing in Harry’s chest because now Niall’s being a little intrusive, a little too blunt. He already agreed to his stupid plan he doesn’t need to feel worse about it. “Well, you do. I’ve seen you give a diamond ring to a five year old in a mud pit,” he grits his teeth a little and he might be feeling a little petulant now. He does do _some_ work for the money that his mum hands him.

“You think my mum is happy about that?” Niall’s dark eyebrows rise beneath his fringe a little and he laughs. “You’re joking right? This is one of Harry’s Famous Jokes?”

“I already told you I would help you, you don’t need to make fun of me,” Harry grimaces at him.

Rolling his eyes, Niall uncrosses his arms, “I’m sorry, H.”

“Have you already talked to…” Harry pauses and tries to remember whom Niall mentioned. He was a little, _a lot_ , bewildered by the Prince factor. He still is. He probably always will be. It’s not like he hasn’t met the Prince. He’s been around for a least seven events where his mum created the outfit the Prince was wearing, and even tailored one during a private fitting himself. It’s just… _what the fuck_.

“Zayn and Liam?” Niall finishes when Harry is too distracted to continue. “Yeah, you were last. They were very interested. Liam took a little convincing but Zayn got him to agree to _all_ the details. His main concern was committing treason but you know,” he finishes on an indifferent shrug.

 _Treason?_ “What?” Harry’s definitely aging because of Niall and Niall alone.

“Treason,” Niall continues simplistically. “Mostly Lou’s the one who needs to worry about treason but he doesn’t seem to care. I’m sure the King would bail him out anyway, probably the rest of us too if anything happened. Not that anything _will_ happen.”

“Niall,” Harry sucks in a breath. “If you want me to do this, I’m really going to need you to refrain from telling me anything else that might make me change my mind. Alright? Sound good to you? I’ve agreed to do this so just stop.”

A wide grin spreads over Niall’s face and crinkles his eyes, “I’ll text the lads and we’ll go from there.”

“How are you planning to meet with everyone about this without anyone else knowing? We aren’t exactly low-profile individuals,” Harry pauses on the sidewalk where his motorcycle is parked neatly.

“Hiding in plain sight, of course. The Royal Charity Ball is coming up,” Niall shifts his weight from one foot to the other as Harry searches his pockets for his key.

 _Plain sight?_ Harry wants to sigh as loudly as he possibly can but he holds it in and tugs his key from his breast pocket, “So?”

“So, we will all be in the same place. Your mum will probably be the coordinator for Lou and his sisters, and you can offer to go along. Zayn’s family provides the musicians for the event and he will be there as a supervisor. Liam’s family will all be in attendance because they are largely responsible for the donations that come in and I will be there for obvious reasons,” Niall shrugs his shoulders like he’s playing at being humble. “I told you we’re close.”

“Of course,” Harry rolls his eyes and straddles his bike. He kicks up the stand and glances once more at Niall.

The blonde isn’t moving, just eyeing Harry with a sort of puppy dog look.

“Get on then. Come on,” Harry moves up on the seat as Niall climbs on the back. He holds his helmet out, “Hold on.”

Niall wraps his arms tightly around Harry’s slim waist after putting on the helmet. “Take me home, cabbie,” he yells the words against Harry’s back and the grin on his face is audible through every syllable.

The easiness about the whole situation sits heavily in Harry’s lungs for the rest of the evening. This is a huge crime, isn’t it? Prisons don’t just exist as housing communities and they all could easily end up there. The entire plan that Niall has concocted sounds so simple and he’s right, all of them are well-connected individuals. They could even pay others to do the actual thievery for them if they really wanted to. Then, there’s the _armed_ part? What the hell is Niall thinking? Harry doesn’t have any training with weapons and Niall most certainly doesn’t either. It’s unlikely that the Payne kid or Malik do. The only one who might is the Prince himself and why in the hell is he willing to be involved anyway?

This whole scenario could absolutely _ruin_ them.

In the two weeks leading up to the Ball, Harry spends as much time in his mum’s studio as he possibly can. He hunkers down and invests his full attention in the hand stitching of the Prince’s cuffs and lapels. The final evening before the event, his mum is so impressed by his dedication that she lets him finish the delicate lace stitching on the Princesses gowns. He doesn’t even have to ask if he can be the one to make the delivery, his mum tells him to do it with a proud smile before she disappears up the stairwell to her bedroom.

Before Harry falls into bed himself, he sends a reluctant text message to Niall: _I’ll be there tomorrow evening._

As his eyes close he receives a reply from Niall that doesn’t serve to ease his nerves in the slightest: _Dress pretty cupcake._

When morning shows its ugly head, the stressed feeling in Harry’s chest has only grown. He tries to calm himself with a long shower and a good lavender based scrubbing. By the time he emerges from the hot spray, he smells a little bit like a field of wild flowers and his skin feels slightly raw. He doesn’t feel any better.

There’s a bombarding amount of text messages on his phone as he dries his hair. When he finally swipes across his screen to view them, it’s a group message from Niall and three other phone numbers he doesn’t recognize.

 **Niall (10:00) :** _Laddys, looking forward to seeing all of you tonight!_

 **Unknown #1 (10:15) :** _I will be a little late joining the event._

 **Niall (10:20) :** _No worries, Z! We will meet after the first act plays._

 **Unknown #2 (10:35) :** _Still not sure this is a good idea._

 **Niall (10:36) :** _No harm in talking about it, Liam._

 **Unknown #3 (10:40) :** _Lads, lads, lads, only we can be the spark that lights the fire of change._

 _Z, Liam…_ the last number has to be the Prince’s. Sucking in a breath, Harry registers the numbers in his phone and turns on one of his music playlists, letting the sound flow through the Bluetooth speakers in his room. If he plays it loud enough, maybe it will drown out the worrying doubt running through his mind.

However, the first song that plays only serves to make him feel guilty for doubting Niall’s mission.

“ _Imagine there’s no heaven, it’s easy if you try… No hell below us, above us only sky. Imagine all the people living for today… Imagine there’s no countries, it isn’t hard to do. Nothing to kill or die for, no religion too… Imagine all the people living life in peace…”_ the words stream delicately through the speakers.

With a heavy sigh, Harry styles his hair so that his curls are pushed delicately away from his face. “You may say I’m a dreamer, but I’m not the only one… I hope some day you’ll join us…” he hums before flipping to the next song in frustration. He doesn’t need to listen to Niall the Saint’s theme song. “Probably wakes up to that every morning and falls asleep to it at night,” he grumbles before brushing the sour taste out of his mouth with minty toothpaste.

He spends the next half hour sifting through his closet for something decent to wear in front of the Prince and his family before a soft knock echoes through the bedroom.

“Yes?” Harry calls as he stumbles through putting on a pair of dark dress socks while standing up straight.

“I’ve got your suit,” his sister calls through the crack in the door. Her voice portrays boredom and it’s probably a match to the look on her face.

Groaning, Harry opens the door.

Gemma holds up a black garment bag and lifts a dainty eyebrow, “You look exhausted.”

“Pleasure talking to you as always Gem,” Harry grabs the bag from her hand and begins to close the door.

“Couldn’t sleep cause you’re too nervous about seeing the Prince?” a grin quirks up the corners of her lips.

Harry frowns deeply, “No.”

“You sure? He is pretty,” she continues. Her dark hair is pulled up into a messy bun on the top of her head and when she tilts her head, the bun falls in the direction of the tilt.

“He is very pretty,” Harry relents. He won’t actually look at his sister when he says it, he won’t give her that satisfaction. Instead, he merely smiles widely and slams the door in her face before she can say anything else that might crawl under his skin in the wrong way.

He takes his time getting dressed from there, tries to focus on whether or not the lapels of the double breasted suit his mum picked out for him are correctly pressed, and blatantly ignores that _yes, the Prince is pretty._ He also entirely blocks out the knowledge that in a few hours he will be on his knees with his nose relatively close to the Prince’s crotch. He has to do the final tailoring before the event. He’s just going to work that’s all. The fact that he’s going to be conspiring against society while he’s at said event has also been completely removed from his frame of mind.

When he’s finished pulling on the clothing, he stands straight in the mirror. The blazer is a raven black silk with finely selected leather lapels and fits the dip of his waist in a way that makes him look slimmer than he is. He sucks in a long breath and straightens out the bowtie that matches the leather lapels. Briefly, he thinks that he looks like he’s got a stick up his ass in this suit, but all in all he does look nice.

On the dresser, his phone vibrates with a new message.

 **Niall (11:30) :** _Harry, violet or grey check?_

There are no attachments with the message or further explanations of what exactly Niall’s asking about. However, Harry’s already colored in gloomy tones so he texts him back with all the possible things he thinks Niall could be referring to: _violet if it’s a blazer, dark trousers, no tie or bowtie. If it’s pants or a pocket square go with the grey check. Please don’t tell me you own violet shoes._

As Harry slips on his leather shoes, Niall texts back a picture. The image is a selfie of Niall in a violet blazer and collarless white button up underneath it. The blazer has a soft lace overlay that is barely visible in the lighting of Niall’s room. On the bridge of Niall’s nose sits a pair of black Wayfarer sunglasses and he’s got one of his eyebrows cocked up. There’s a sunglasses emoji underneath the photo and Harry is deeply endeared.

 **Harry (11:35) :** _You look like a dashing lavender smurf._

 **Niall (11:40) :** _Your mum made me this blazer for my birthday. I look fucking brilliant, you tit._

 **Harry (11:45) :** _I bet you look better in person, haha. I’ll see you in a few hours. I’ve got to head out. Tailoring the Prince and the Princesses, you know._

 **Niall (11:48) :** _I hope that you look good. Lou’s excited to see you._

Pausing with his phone grasped in his hands, Harry stares at the text. Niall’s an idiot. He really is. He tosses the phone into his leather messenger bag and slings it across his chest. “Alright, Harry,” he tells himself as he passes in front of the mirror on the way out of his room. “These are all things you have to do…”

The door snicks shut behind him before he wanders down the stairs to his mum’s studio. The Prince’s suit and his sister’s gowns are hung neatly in garment bags on a rack by the window. He grabs the bags carefully and loads them into the back of one of his mum’s business cars.

On the drive to the event venue, Harry tries to keep his thoughts pointedly blank. He switches into autopilot a little. This is business, this part of his night is at least, and he needs to keep a positive face for his mum’s company.

When he arrives at the venue, a guard thoroughly searches through Harry’s car, and then _extra_ thoroughly searches Harry himself. Once the guard is satisfied, he allows Harry to go inside and even helps carry the garment bags.

“His Royal Highness has been expecting you,” the guard casually says as he leads Harry through the building. “Although, I assume he was expecting Mrs. Twist and not her son. Seeing as her name was on the clearance and not yours.”

“Hopefully, my work will be enough,” Harry smiles easily and the guard opens one of the doors at the end of a hallway. “Thank you,” he takes the other garment bags from his hands and walks inside.

Inside the room, four young royals are seated on a long couch and by the window, where the curtains are almost completely drawn, stands the Prince. He’s wearing a dark pair of sweatpants and a red Adidas jumper. The afternoon light that streams through the small gap in the curtains casts a warm glow in the blues of his irises. He looks lovely even with the way that his hair is rumpled.

“Your Royal Highnesses,” the guard greets with a timid bow of his head. “Harry Styles is here to tailor your attire for tonight’s event,” he finishes before leaving the room.

Harry bows his head respectfully when they turn to glance in his direction.

The girls stand from the couch with gentle smiles as the Prince pulls the curtains closed. “Just let us know what you need us to do,” Prince Louis tilts his head and smiles politely. His hands are clasped neatly behind his back as he leans his weight on his left foot.

“Your Royal Highnesses,” Harry bows his head once more and shifts more to address the girls. “If I may ask, please try on the dresses so that I may hem them first,” he smiles. He feels a little stilted and he’s never been very good at remembering how to address the Royals.

A stifled laugh escapes Prince Louis and the Princesses giggle. “Relax, Harry,” Prince Louis unclasps his hands as he walks toward him. “Come on, come on. Show us what you’ve got for us.”

Startling a little, Harry nods. He unzips the first garment bag to reveal an ombre peach, chiffon dress. The top of the dress has a sheer overlay and this is one of Harry’s favorites. “Lady Charlotte, this one is for you…” he pulls the dress from the bag.

“Lottie, go on,” Prince Louis directs and his posture relaxes a little. He pushes his hands through his dark hair as the tallest blonde of the girls takes the dress from Harry’s hands with a soft _thank you_.

The second garment bag holds a violet A-Line gown with a deep v neckline and white fabric flowers, “Lady Felicite,” Harry holds out the gown with careful hands on the hanger. He’s shaking a little now, unsure of how to really act.

“Fizz,” Prince Louis waves the only dark haired sister over.

The last two gowns for the twin Royals are elegant ball gowns, one being pink with a sweetheart neckline and long chiffon ruffles, and the second being a playful green with a high neckline and large chiffon flowers decorating the skirt. The girls take them graciously and disappear from the room to change.

“What have you got for me, Harry?” Prince Louis grins openly now. His eyes are narrowed in delight and the blue is so deep in contrast to the dark of his feathered hair.

“A beautiful suit, sir,” Harry unzips the final bag and gently removes the suit from it.

Taking the hanger from Harry’s grasp, Prince Louis smiles, “Delightful as always. A black blazer with a white jacquard print, a white button up with dark buttons, and slim black trousers. Make it yourself?” He drapes the suit over the back of the couch and pulls his jumper over his head. His back is to Harry now, revealing taut muscles that stretch over his back and tense when he pulls the white button up onto his shoulders. He turns around and buttons the shirt carefully.

“No, sir,” Harry pulls a cushion with pins from his messenger bag and waits for Prince Louis to finish and pull on the trousers. “My mum did most of the work on your suit. I worked on your sisters’ gowns mostly.”

“Oh?” Prince Louis looks up once he buttons his trousers and pulls at the fabric of the shirt so it flows freely.

With a small nod, Harry steps forward. “If you will please stand how you normally would,” he waits for the Prince to adjust and places pins in the fabric on his sides where the material is too baggy. “Very good, sir.”

“Harry, really. Please, just call me Louis,” the Prince rolls his eyes and relaxes his shoulders when Harry finishes pinning.

“Yes, sir… Yes, _Louis_ ,” Harry flushes a little as he gets down on his knees in front of the Prince.

Louis shifts from side to side in front of him, his crotch only a few inches from Harry’s face.

For a moment too long, Harry is very still.

“Supposed to hem my pant legs, aren’t you?” Louis asks after a beat and when Harry looks up the Prince is grinning widely at him.

“My apologies,” Harry quickly amends as a blush creeps up the back of his neck.

_He is pretty._

Harry carefully folds under the bottom hems of the trousers and pins them a few centimeters above the Prince’s heel. He stays quiet and focuses on the task at hand.

“Have you thought of a name?” Louis questions after a moment and when Harry looks up, Louis is staring back at him.

“A name?” Harry’s eyebrows furrow together.

Smiling a little, Louis looks toward the ceiling, “A new name for yourself, for you know…”

Pausing, Harry looks back down at the pins in his hands. _Oh_ , _a name for when committing crime._ “Ah, no I have not,” he quietly replies.

“I have,” Louis shifts his weight from one foot to the other.

After a moment, Harry pushes up from his knees and helps the Prince put the blazer on without rumpling the dress shirt. “What name did you pick?” he asks airily as he pins the seam underneath Louis’ arms.

“I picked _Luka_ ,” Louis begins. “I wanted something that was similar enough to my name so that it was easy to remember, but different enough that a connection wouldn’t be made.”

“Luka,” Harry repeats softly. “I like it.”

The Prince hums in agreement.

“All finished, Louis,” Harry sets his pins aside and helps the Prince out of the outfit so that he doesn’t get stuck by any of the sharp needles.

“Thank you, Harry,” Louis grins and pulls his comfortable clothes back on.

A moment later, the Princesses reappear and Harry gets back to work. He tries to put the thoughts out of his mind, the thoughts of the Prince and what they’re going to do. He tries to ignore the way that he can feel Louis watching him from his seat by the window.

Once he’s finished, Harry repacks up the dresses and bows his head. He dismisses himself on a quiet _thank you_ and avoids making particularly long eye contact with any of the royals as he exits the room. He sets up shop down the hall in a small room with a table and a few chairs. In the quiet space, he focuses on opening the seams on the Prince’s outfit and stitching them to match his slender figure. He pricks his fingertips a few times as he hems the Prince’s trousers and the Princesses gowns.

As he’s finishing up the bottom hem on Princess Daisy’s gown, his phone vibrates loudly against the wooden tabletop.

 **Niall (15:50) :** _Lou says you stared at his dick._

Harry chokes on an inhale.

 **Harry (15:51) :** _That isn’t true. I was hemming his trousers!_

There’s a flush creeping up the back of his neck again and he should really pay a little more attention to his actions.

 **Niall (16:00) :** _Mmhmm. I just thought you had a little bit more poise, H._

Groaning a little, Harry tosses the phone back into his bag and rubs at his face. _Surely_ , the Prince doesn’t really think that’s what Harry was doing and _certainly_ he wouldn’t tell Niall that if he did.

On the other hand, Harry doesn’t really know anything about the Prince outside of what’s in the tabloids. If anyone were to base who Harry is on those magazines then they would be sorely wrong. _416 women in a year._ How many dicks do they think he has? So trying to understand the Prince in such a way would probably be horribly off base too. He needs to _relax_ and breathe. _Just breathe, Harry._

When he’s finally finished with all of the outfits, a woman in a primly pressed pantsuit comes to take them from him.

“If there are any other issues, please let me know,” Harry smiles kindly at the woman.

“Of course,” the woman bows her head before she exits with the garment bags in hand.

When Harry’s alone again, he checks his reflection in the camera of his phone and straightens out his hair. Outside the window of the small room, guests are starting to arrive. Patrons are delicately stepping out of their pristine cars and cameras are flashing brightly in the late afternoon sun. For a moment, he’s relieved that he doesn’t have to walk through that, that he doesn’t have to put on a convincing smile with the knowledge that he will probably be taking things from those other citizens.

He rubs a hand over his face. How can he feel guilty for something that he hasn’t even done yet? Niall’s right anyway. Those people probably wont even miss the bit that will be gone.

Heaving in a large breath of air, Harry shakes his head and closes his eyes.

Music starts playing down the hall and it’s so faint that he almost misses it as a few messages buzz through to his phone.

 **Niall (17:15) :** _It’s time to begin, boys._

 **Zayn Malik (17:16) :** _Light it up!_

 **Liam Payne (17:16) :** _League of anti-heroes aren’t we?_

 **Prince Louis (17:17) :** _Smile wide, everyone’s watching._

He pushes open the door and squares his shoulders. He pulls on a smile and runs his hands down the front of his blazer to smooth out any wrinkles.

People pass by him as he wanders down the long hallway toward the ballroom. There’s a numbness settling beneath his skin but he smiles through it.

 _It’s time to begin_ and _everyone’s watching_ floats through his head loudly to the nervous beat of his heart.

“Mr. Styles?” a young man in a server’s uniform stops him just a meter from the entrance. “His Royal Highness has asked that I show you to your seat.”

Nodding weakly, Harry follows the server to a round table near the stage. The seats around the table are empty with a fancy place setting in front of each chair. On top of each dessert plate is a delicate name card with silver writing.

“Right here, Mr. Styles,” the server bows his head as he pulls out Harry’s chair. “Have a pleasant evening,” he smiles politely before he disappears back into the throng of guests.

“Alright,” Harry exhales a soft breath as he takes his seat and glances at the other name cards at the table.

_Princess Charlotte._

_Princess Felicite._

_Prince Louis._

_Lord Horan…_ Harry chokes a little. When exactly was Niall knighted? What even is Niall? He’s not sure why he’s ever surprised by his friend anymore.

He can’t see any of the other placards from his seat but he assumes that the other Royals will be seated at the table as well as any other guests that the Prince should decide to be in his company.

On the stage a woman with long blonde hair plays a soft song on the piano that calms the air of the room as the guests begin to take their seats. At the side of the stage stands a young man with raven black hair and a dark suit. He seems to be discussing something with the stage crew and Harry hasn’t seen him before. He’s rather pretty though, the dim lighting casting warm shadows over his cheeks and highlighting his tanned skin. So, Harry spends his next lonely moments staring probably a little too blatantly. Why do the rich always have to be so pretty?

“Zayn knows your eyeing him,” a voice whispers over Harry’s shoulder and he nearly falls out of his seat.

“ _Niall_ ,” Harry hauls in a breath. “Zayn…? Oh, that’s the Malik guy…” he coughs pathetically.

Laughing brightly in the quiet, Niall takes his seat beside Harry. “Deep breath, mate,” he grins widely and lazes back in his chair. His violet blazer is unbuttoned and he looks so relaxed. His blonde hair is styled up into a quiff and he almost looks like a Disney princess instead of a purple smurf.

“I’ll do my best, Lord Horan,” Harry rolls his eyes and reaches out to flatten out the lapel of Niall’s blazer.

“Piss off,” Niall bats his hand away and waves a server over with a tray of champagne glasses.

Before the server can approach, a caramel haired young man in a carefully pressed white suit picks two glasses off the tray and brings them to Niall. “Thought I would save him the trouble of not receiving a proper thank you, Niall,” the man says as he hands a glass to Niall and offers the other to Harry. “Liam Payne, pleasure to meet you,” he says around a polite smile as Harry takes the glass.

“Harry Styles,” Harry smiles back. So, now he’s almost met everyone.

“Li,” Niall shoves at Liam’s arm. “I’m polite, you fucker.”

A small laugh escapes Liam as he shakes his head, “Oh, so very polite. Well, I just thought I would say hello.”

“Leaving already?” Niall pouts.

“I have to sit with my father for the first performance,” Liam shrugs a little. “I’ll, uh, I’ll see you after.”

Smiling easily, Niall waves him away, “See ya.”

Liam disappears with the same polite smile that he arrived with and Harry drinks down his champagne in one long pull. The numbness in his veins has turned to a nervous buzzing and he hopes that the alcohol will help it simmer down if only just a little.

The woman at the piano ceases to play and the lights in the room dim further as a spotlight illuminates somewhere in the back of the ballroom.

“Now introducing the arrival of His Royal Highness, Prince Louis William Tomlinson of Doncaster…” an older man with a booming voice announces the Royals.

Prince Louis enters the room with an air of poise and elegance that Harry himself never quite mastered despite the etiquette classes that his mum greatly encouraged. His suit perfectly accentuates the gentle dip of his waist and the curves of his legs.

Harry’s staring again, but who isn’t? The people are supposed to stare when the Royals appear, aren’t they? Right, _of course_.

“If you want to fuck everyone in our group, it might be a problem,” Niall whispers over Harry’s shoulder. “I could probably arrange it though.”

“Shut up,” Harry hisses. He doesn’t for one second doubt that Niall could though and that frightens him a little.

Once the Royal siblings have all entered, they take their seats at the table each armed with a server to pull out their chairs and push them carefully back in.

The pianist begins tinkling at the keys again after a small moment.

“Girls,” Niall greets with a warm smile.

“Blondie,” Charlotte replies with a smile as the younger Royals giggle quietly.

Draping his arm over the back of Niall’s chair, Prince Louis grins, “Niall, has anyone told you that you look like violet smurf?”

“Oh, clever,” Niall rolls his eyes. “Has anyone ever told you that you look like you’ve been drug through a pile of snowflakes?”

Harry makes a wounded sound and places a hand over his heart in mock offense.

“Harry, Harold, _Harriet_ ,” Niall places his hand gently on Harry’s shoulder. “I’m only joking. I know that you spent hours slaving away covered in ashes like Cinderella to put this beautiful piece together.”

“Don’t be offended, darling,” Prince Louis smiles around the rim of a glass of champagne that the servers placed on the table prior to his arrival. “This suit is one of my favorites.”

 _Darling._ Harry brushes Niall’s hand away and ducks his head a little. There’s a blush creeping up the back of his neck and he tries to hide it by adjusting the collar of his shirt.

The Prince and Niall talk amicably as the servers bring out salads and dinners with lavish garnishes.

As the first act continues to play, Harry drinks more champagne and does his best not to look too long at anyone in particular. He eats his meal slowly and focuses solely on each bite that he takes. For a few moments, he feels calm.

“We will meet Zayn and Liam behind the stage when this piece is over,” Niall whispers discreetly before turning back to the Prince to continue a conversation that Harry has mostly missed.

Swallowing thickly, Harry nods and drinks down the last of his champagne, focuses on that building buzz instead of the nervous twitch that’s starting to bother his left eye. He’s not exactly successful and when the pianist plays the finishing notes of her piece to the tune of elegant applause, he’s no where near as intoxicated as he wishes he was.

“Girls,” Niall takes Harry’s hand and stands with a gesture for the Prince to do the same. “I’m going to borrow the lovely gentlemen for a few moments, is that alright?” he smiles teasingly as Harry and the Prince get up from their chairs.

“Will you return them soon?” Princess Charlotte questions with a delicate tilt of her head. “We quite like the curly one.”

Harry very nearly trips on the leg of his seat.

“Of course,” Niall winks and leads the two boys away from the table.

Only a few paces ahead of them, Liam Payne is already disappearing behind the stage area where Zayn Malik once stood. Now, Harry’s heart is beating so loudly in his chest that it hurts a little. Can he have a heart attack at twenty-one? _Probably._

Behind the stage, the lighting is dim and the other crewmembers have disappeared for the small intermission. Toward the back wall, Zayn and Liam are standing together a little stiffly.

“Laddys,” Niall greets breezily as he lets go of Harry’s hand.

“I think you need to think a bit more about this,” Liam rushes to say as Zayn murmurs a _hello_.

Rolling his eyes, Niall drapes a violet arm over Liam’s shoulders, “Liam, sweetheart, _darling,_ relax a bit, will you?” He ruffles up the hair at the nape of Liam’s neck and laughs.

“He is right, Niall,” Prince Louis crosses his arms carefully over his chest.

The easy grin on Niall’s face almost instantly diminishes and Harry lifts his eyebrows. So, it takes royalty to slow the ball of sunshine down.

“We need a real plan for this. Sure, different names and masks will hide who we are, but that does nothing if we do not have an actual plan of action,” Prince Louis speaks carefully and authoritatively. “These… Escapades you want to carry out will require precision and attention to detail. We will need access and total cooperation.”

There is silence among the rest of them as they all focus wholly on the Prince.

“We will also need rules,” Prince Louis continues. “As well as a way to discuss what we’re going to do without the possibility of being traced…”

“We could use burner phones,” Zayn speaks up after a moment. “Those, uh, prepaid phones… They don’t have GPS in them, so they’re unregistered and untraceable…” he tapers off into silence.

Lifting his arm from Liam’s shoulders, Niall nods a little, “That could work.” He closes his hands into tight fists before flexing his fingers in a way that he only does when he’s thinking or nervous.

“I can…” Liam hesitates like he doesn’t quite want to contribute and he’s forcing himself. “I will pick up the phones and have them delivered to each of you.”

“I’ll design the masks,” Zayn adds after a moment, his voice soft against the harsh chatter on the other side of the stage.

A smile reclaims Niall’s face and the Prince nods approvingly.

“We should get that all done then… We will go from there, yeah?” Harry finally speaks. “We need the foundation before we can do anything else.” He wants more than anything to return to their table and have a few more champagnes to drown out the remnants of this conversation.

“Brilliant,” Prince Louis smiles gently.

There’s an air that settles around them, it isn’t exactly calm but it’s easier to breathe. Niall stretches his arms out and gestures for all of them to come to him. He pulls them in for a hug with too many limbs. However, this close, with Harry’s knees bent slightly and his shoulder pressed up under the Prince’s arm, he catches the scent of vanilla and spice. Warmth fills Harry’s lungs and he closes his eyes for a moment before Niall finally releases them.

“Look forward to working with you,” Niall tosses a wink to Liam and Zayn before he wraps his hands around Harry and the Prince’s wrists.

“Enjoy the rest of the show,” Zayn offers a small wave as the three boys exit one side of the stage and Liam disappears out the other.

For the remainder of the evening, Harry swallows down more champagne and tries not to inhale too much of the vanilla that seems to be lingering in the stitches of his blazer. The alcohol in his veins bubbles like the golden liquid in his glass and he relaxes.

“Shall I drive you home, princess?” Niall leans his face close to Harry’s with the whisper.

Just as Harry’s about to reply, the Prince drapes his arm over Niall’s shoulder, “Why don’t you all come over to mine for a bit?”

“We would _love_ to,” Niall pipes cheerfully.

Harry agrees, he does but he’s very pleasantly intoxicated and if he stares at the Prince any longer he might just keel over. “Well, I… My mum’s car is…”

“No excuses, Harry,” Prince Louis grins at him. “I insist.”

 _Insist._ Harry can’t really find it in himself to refuse, definitely not with the Prince looking back at him like he might be the sun itself. Briefly, he wonders if the Prince can make everyone feel like that, if that’s just part of his princely duties.

“Use your words, petal,” Niall pinches Harry’s cheek teasingly.

“Yeah, yeah…” Harry stumbles to say. His cheeks are flushed and he’s staring at the Prince again, isn’t he? The copious amounts of champagne definitely feel like a horrible idea now.

Standing, Prince Louis seems pleased. “Girls, when you are ready to head home, I will have Preston here to take you, understood?” he address his sisters as he runs his hands down the front of his blazer.

“Yes, Lou,” Princess Charlotte rolls her eyes as she finishes a piece of carefully crafted strawberry cake.

“Let’s go then, lads,” Niall pushes himself up from his seat and drags Harry up with him. He bows his head gingerly to the girls. “Thank you for the lovely evening.”

Murmuring as polite a _goodbye_ as he can, Harry fumbles after the retreating backs of Niall and the Prince. There’s a slight rush in his head and he blinks hard to focus his vision before he reaches out a hand for Niall to steady himself.

“Harriet,” Niall smiles at him and circles an arm around Harry’s waist as he walks. “Don’t tell me you’ve had too much to drink. In the presence of the Prince no less,” he muses.

“Shh,” Harry shushes him quickly but he tightens his grip on Niall’s sleeve when the blonde acts like he’s going to let him go.

Ahead of them, the Prince turns to them with a knowing smile, “Stand too close and the tabloids will think you’re sleeping together.”

They’re reaching the front doors and Harry _forgot_. He forgot about the cameras that he had seen flashing earlier in the evening. He scrambles to let go of Niall.

“They’ve said worse things,” Niall laughs and pats at Harry’s hip comfortingly not releasing him.

The doors before them are opened by an elderly gentlemen and they’re greeted by a wall of white light. Harry almost immediately trips on the first step but Niall presses close to his side and holds him upright.

“Keep your head down and smile,” Niall reminds Harry easily as they follow carefully after the Prince.

There’s a lot of _polite_ shouting around them and the Prince breezes easily past them without a second glance.

When they finally reach a car with darkly tented windows at the end of the walkway, Harry’s vision begins to clear. A burly man in a dark suit opens the door for them and waits until they are comfortably seated inside to close it.

“They must have been getting bored waiting for someone to leave,” Louis laughs and the sound is pleasant.

“They’re like vultures,” Niall nods, a grin of his own gracing his lips.

Heaving a breath, Harry blinks hard.

“Alright there, Harry?” the Prince asks from where he’s seated across from the two of them. There’s an amused look flitting across his features and the sweep of his eyelashes against his cheeks is so slow.

“I’m so sorry,” Harry blurts as more heat pools in his cheeks.

A deep furrow settles between Prince Louis’ eyebrows, “For?”

“F—For…” Harry pauses and looks down at his hands in his lap, stares at the little cross tattoo on his left hand. What was he apologizing for again? It was for something important. He’s sure of it. “Um…”

The Prince must be extremely patient because all he does is wait, his stare focused intently on Harry.

 _Oh,_ Harry pushes his hair out of his face and looks up. “For being so…” he gestures to himself. “I don’t wish to embarrass you.”

A laugh escapes Niall and the Prince smiles again. “You don’t wish to embarrass me?” Prince Louis’ eyes squint in amusement. “Relax.”

“Who even says things like that, Harry?” Niall leans back against his seat as he chuckles.

Pouting, Harry glares at his friend, “Mean.”

“Don’t worry about it, Harry,” Prince Louis leans forward in his seat to place a warm hand on Harry’s knee. “You’re lovely.”

 _Lovely._ Harry swallows hard. _You’re lovely,_ he thinks, _and so pretty._

For a moment the car is quiet and the Prince is staring back at Harry with his eyebrows lifted in surprise.

“D—Did I say that out loud…?” Harry stammers frantically.

“I like this one,” Prince Louis pulls his hand back as he looks at Niall with a laugh. “I _wish_ to keep him.”

Flushing, Harry nearly jumps out of the car when it pulls to a stop outside of a brightly lit high rise. He should just throw himself into prison now, really that’s the best option that he has.

The driver escorts them to the lift and up to the top floor before telling the Prince that he will be downstairs should they need anything.

“W—Where’s the palace?” Harry finds himself saying as the Prince lets them into a flat with a lavish interior and floor to ceiling windows.

“The palace?” Prince Louis wanders over to one of the windows and beckons for Harry to follow him as Niall flops back on a long white leather couch. “It’s right over there…” he points out the window when Harry hesitantly stands beside him.

Kicking his feet up onto a glass coffee table, Niall adds, “Lou stays here most of the time.”

“Oh,” is all that Harry can think to say. He may still be stuck on the fact that he admitted to the Prince’s face that he’s _pretty._ He may be embarrassed for the rest of his life and he suddenly realizes he’s not nearly as drunk as he should be for this.

“I thought that we could talk more about our plans,” Prince Louis leaves Harry by the window and disappears around a corner before reemerging with three bottles of beer in his hands. “You know, just the minor details.”

Niall takes a beer from the Prince and twists the top off using his forearm. “What did you have in mind, _Luka?_ ” he grins before taking a sip.

“Well, there’s that,” the Prince takes a seat on an armchair that matches the couch and pulls his knees up to his chest. “Have you picked a name? I know that Harry hasn’t,” he waits for Harry to finally sit on the couch next to Niall before he hands over a beer.

“I was thinking that I liked Nico,” Niall flips the cap of his beer between his fingers.

Taking a small pull from his beer, Harry keeps his stare away from the Prince and settles on the side of Niall’s face, “What do you think mine should be?”

The two boys look over at Harry thoughtfully. “What about Harley?” Prince Louis taps his chin. “You know like Harley Quinn.”

“I could see that,” Niall nods his head decisively. “Luka, Nico, and Harley.”

“Also, Laine and Zeph,” Louis adds as he looks at his phone.

 _Luka, Nico, Laine, Zeph, and Harley,_ Harry rolls the names around in his head, places them with images of the boys. “We’re like a little band of anarchists,” he murmurs around the mouth of his beer.

“Something like that,” Prince Louis smiles at him, his eyes soft.

Harry’s mouth runs dry and he takes a long drink.

“What should our rules be?” Niall crosses his legs at the ankle and rolls his beer between his hands.

“The first should easily be that no one talks to anyone outside the group about what we’re doing,” Prince Louis tilts his head back against a plush cushion.

Vaguely, Harry thinks that they look like amateur mob bosses lounging around in their suits talking about future robberies. For a moment, the idea doesn’t unsettle him and maybe it’s because the Prince is there with an air of quiet confidence. Warmth floods his lungs again and he settles deeper into the couch, tries to tear his eyes away from the Prince but he can’t. He watches the way that Prince Louis’ mouth curves around each word and the way he drums his fingers on the tops of his knees.

“…french,” Prince Louis is saying and honestly, Harry has no idea what the rest of the conversations been about anymore.

“Harry,” Niall loudly calls his name.

At that, Harry startles hard and almost drops his beer, “Y—Yes?”

“Lou was asking if you speak French,” Niall looks deeply amused as he cocks an eyebrow.

“Oui, je peux,” Harry nods quickly.

A pleased look passes over Prince Louis’ face as he takes a drink, “Good. We can use that then.”

“For what?” Harry furrows his eyebrows and looks between Niall and the Prince.

“Communication when we do things,” Prince Louis tells him and the look on Niall’s face lets Harry know that this is definitely not the first time the Prince has explained this.

Nodding, Harry fidgets, “That sounds like a good idea.”

“ _Merci, Harley_ ,” Louis replies and the words roll off his tongue so easily.

The sound is so pleasant to Harry’s ears and he tightens his grip on his beer. He fiddles with a loose corner of the label and finally pulls his stare away from the Prince.

“Great,” Niall claps his hands together once. “We’ll settle the rest with the other lads.”

Harry should probably ask what else he missed while he was staring aimlessly at the Prince but he’s too embarrassed to form the words.

Eventually, the boys turn their attention to a game of Fifa. Prince Louis doesn’t make them leave when he decides to go to bed and Niall and Harry spend the night in a guest room with fluffy feather duvets.

“Harry?” Niall’s voice sounds wide awake as he presses the duvet between them down to reveal Harry’s face.

Blinking tiredly, Harry shifts a little to look back at Niall. “Hm?”

“Are you nervous?” Niall asks. Half of his face is pressed into the pillows and his blonde quiff has become soft, flopping over his forehead.

“Nervous?” Harry repeats quietly. He feels like a child lying in this bed with the boy that he’s been friends with ever since Niall first pulled his curls on the playground of their preparatory school.

For a moment, Niall is silent and this is the first time that Harry has seen him look so unsure. His blue eyes are shadowed as he looks down at the creases in the duvet. “I am,” he admits eventually. “This whole thing is… I don’t know anymore.”

As much as Harry wants to agree with him, he hates the look on Niall’s face. Hesitantly, he moves the duvet back a little and places his hand on Niall’s heart. “Too much love in there to waste, Ni,” he smiles into the dark.

“You’re such a sop,” Niall finally looks back at him and there’s a grin on his lips, it’s slight but it’s there. “Come here,” he wraps an arm around Harry’s waist and pulls him close until Harry is pressed close to his chest.

“This idea is… Sure, it’s a little crazy, but it’s for the good,” Harry tells Niall’s chest. He settles in and closes his eyes to the drum of Niall’s heart against his cheek.

Taking a small breath, Niall rests his chin in Harry’s curls. “You’re like the Robin to my Batman,” he laughs softly.

“You mean, Harley Quinn to your Joker?” Harry replies and he feels heavier now, dragged down by the need to sleep.

“Oui,” Niall agrees and Harry doesn’t have to look at him to know that he’s smiling.

Harry drifts to the sound of Niall breathing softly and humming into his curls, “ _D’un chef de file, j’en ai pas l’profil, mais sur lorieller j’aime pas qu’on me questionne… Je suis pas James Bone entoure de belles blondes non, non, non. J’envie meme pas les autre mec qui me papillonnent… Pourant pas contre l’amour, j’attends plutot mon tour…_ ” He remembers hearing the song vaguely on a trip to Paris with his mum not too long ago but he falls asleep before he can place it.

When Harry wakes up, it’s to the sound of loud clanging and a cold spot on the bed where Niall once was. His head is fuzzy and he brushes his hair away from his face with a warm hand before sitting up.

“Ah, Harry!” Niall shouts when he pokes his head into the room. He’s in his boxers still but he’s wearing a _Joy Division_ t-shirt that Harry hasn’t seen before. “You’re awake. Come make breakfast!”

Blinking hazily, Harry nods and pushes himself off the bed. He picks up his long sleeved button up and pulls it on. As much as he enjoys being naked, he doesn’t find it nearly appropriate enough to do around the Prince. He buttons the shirt slowly before following Niall out of the room and into the light of the kitchen.

The kitchen countertops are a white marble with little flecks of blue and sitting at the bar counter is not only the Prince but Liam and Zayn as well. “Morning, Harry,” Prince Louis smiles at him. His hair is rumpled and he’s wearing another Adidas jumper.

“Hello,” Liam offers him a small wave as Zayn nods his acknowledgement.

“H—Hello,” Harry stammers in surprise. He scratches at his stomach through his shirt. _Should have put my trousers on,_ he thinks with a small glance at his boxers.

Draping an arm over Harry’s shoulders, Niall pinches his cheek, “I was just telling them what a great cook you are. So make us some breakfast.”

“I could just have Paul bring some up,” Prince Louis rests his chin on an upturned palm.

“Harry doesn’t mind,” Niall assures the Prince quickly before pushing Harry in the direction of the stove.

Really, Harry should protest because he feels a bit like he’s underwater and the light from the large windows is hurting his eyes but he can’t find the strength to tell Niall _no._ So, he rummages through the cabinets until he finds a pan and proceeds to make the easiest thing he can think of: _egg on toast_.

“What were you saying about the designs?” Prince Louis asks as Harry places plates in front of the boys.

“Oh, right…” Zayn shifts nervously before pulling a sketchbook from a bag on the floor and opening it. He places it on the counter so that the rest of them can see as they begin eating. “This is, um… This one’s Harry’s, if that’s alright…”

The drawing is of a dark blue mask, and over the right eye there’s the outlines of a butterfly, the wings stretching down to the jaw and spreading toward the top edge. The same pink outlines the left eye.

“I… I really like it, Zayn,” Harry stares at the sketch.

“T—This is Niall’s…” Zayn hurries on and there’s a slight flush to his cheeks.

Leaning over the counter with his plate in hand, Niall peers at the sketch. On the page is a dark grey mask with a bright blue outlining the eyes and dripping down to where a few layers of what looks like blue tape covering the mouth from one side of the jaw to the other. “Trying to tell me I talk too much?” Niall laughs cheerfully with a point to the tape.

“N—No,” Zayn mumbles, his fingers twitching to turn the page. “I just… Like you planned all of this but it’s a secret so you know…” he looks like he wants to continue but isn’t sure how.

“Don’t get embarrassed. It’s good. I’ll be able to breathe, right?” Niall bites off a piece of his toast.

Lifting his hazel eyes to look at Niall finally, Zayn’s eyebrows furrow, “You do have a nose, right?” He flips to the next sketch before Niall can reply. “These are mine and Liam’s…”

“Patriotic,” Liam says as he looks at his own design: a white mask with a tattered looking black and white British flag covering one half of the face.

Zayn’s mask is white as well with what looks like a British flag bandana covering everything from the nose and down.

“Louis, yours is, um…” Zayn flips the page once more.

The sketch is a simple white mask with thick black x’s over both of the eyes. Prince Louis tilts his head as he looks at it, “Am I dead?”

“Well,” Zayn hauls in a breath and pushes his dark bangs away from his face. “It’s, um, sort of symbolism. Since you’re the Prince and you’re sort of going against the monarchy… It’s… I don’t know… Like, death of your Prince self…” he hesitates again and fiddles with his toast.

Nodding, Prince Louis grins, “I like it.”

“So, is there symbolism behind all of these?” Harry asks after swallowing some egg. “Why am I a butterfly? Everyone else’s seem so… Manly.”

“Let me guess,” Niall grins before unbuttoning Harry’s shirt to point at his butterfly tattoo.

And, suddenly Harry feels very cold and unsettled with the four boys staring at his bare chest.

“Yeah,” Zayn closes the sketchbook and puts it back in his bag. “I saw it at that Fashion Show a few weeks back.”

“Don’t look embarrassed, H,” Niall laughs. “You wear your shirts like that all the time. I’m surprised you even bother wearing them.”

Prince Louis hums as he takes a bite of toast, his deep blue eyes are settled on the tattoo.

“ _Ta gueule_ ,” Harry hisses at Niall before quickly buttoning his shirt again.

“You shut up,” Niall rolls his eyes and pinches at Harry’s hip. He’s still grinning nonetheless.

Looking a little displeased, Prince Louis turns his attention to Zayn, “Nice work, Z.”

“Thanks,” Zayn gestures toward a set of glass doors on the other end of the living room that lead to a balcony. “Smoke?”

Nodding, the Prince and Liam get up with Zayn.

“You smoke?” Harry nearly sputters as he looks at the Prince.

“Not everything in the press is a lie, Harry,” Prince Louis smiles over his shoulder. “Makes me wonder what things are true about you. Over four hundred women in a year, busy man,” with that he slips out onto the balcony leaving Harry wide eyed and Niall bursting into laughter.

There are words that Harry wants to say, wants to retort with but he can’t seem to find any and the moment is gone.

“I could still arrange to add those three to your fuck list,” Niall’s face is red now with each hiccupping breath.

“I didn’t sleep with…” Harry starts but bites his tongue and takes the empty plates to the sink.

Clapping Harry on the back, Niall rolls his eyes, “Don’t get your feathers ruffled there, _papillon._ ”

“You know, I am larger than you. I could take you down,” Harry tells him.

“Don’t go trying to be manly on me. I like your delicateness. The butterfly is a perfect representation of you,” Niall crosses his arms. “Don’t get pissy.”

Turning away from the sink, Harry slumps his shoulders. “Alright, alright…” he mumbles. “Just come here. My head hurts and you’re calling me delicate,” he opens his arms.

“There’s my little papillon,” Niall grins as he wraps his arms around Harry’s waist and squeezes.

“If you call me butterfly one more time, I really will hit you,” Harry insists but he doesn’t mean it.

Niall nuzzles his hair against Harry’s face.

Easiness settles in Harry’s lungs and he digs his fingers into Niall’s sides until the blonde struggles to free himself from his grasp.

 _We can do this_ , Harry tells himself, _someone has to._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELP: I'm looking for someone who can translate a few phrases accurately into French. If this applies to you and you would like to help, which you will receive full credit for, please leave a message in the comments below or contact me on my tumblr: thatkaitykid.tumblr.com !
> 
> Thank you for reading!
> 
> Ps: Song Niall sings: On s’attache by Christophe Mae “I’m not made to be a leader. I don’t like to be questioned about my pillow. I’m not James Bond surrounded by pretty blondes. I don’t even envy those guys around me who keep changing girls. Yet not against love, I’m waiting for my turn.”

**Author's Note:**

> Comment, Kudo, Hate... Let me know what you think so far!


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